


Breathe Me

by infinitely_perpetually



Category: The Walking Dead RPF
Genre: F/M, and some sexytimes, slightly angsty, very friendshipy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitely_perpetually/pseuds/infinitely_perpetually
Summary: He held the door open as she walked through, then followed her into the dimly lit quarters, wrapping his arms around her gently and speaking low against her neck."Am I staying?"





	

**Disclaimer:**  
The characters in this story are based on real people, but they are strictly fictional. The events depicted have not occurred. I adore these human beings and mean no offense to anybody named in this work.

* * *

 

 **A/N:** Inspired by the pics that came out of NYCC. I tried not to write it. I couldn't help myself. Please don't hate me. Thanks to Emily and Caz for beta-ing.

* * *

 

It happened sometimes. They slept together. In the most literal sense of the term. They would be enjoying time alone, or with friends, and the evening would turn into night, which turned into early morning. As the others would leave, they would share a look, and depending on where they were, one or the other would linger behind as everyone said their goodbyes.

They always stayed clothed. Mostly. She'd slip out of her bra. He'd usually end up in boxers and whatever t-shirt he was wearing that night. And they would climb beneath the blankets and curl up together, quietly talking about any little thing. Or not talking at all. Simply being close, breathing each other in, until eventually sleep claimed them both. She was safe. She was treasured. And he never, ever took advantage of the proximity or the comfort she found in his arms.

Their relationship was rather indescribable. She'd tried putting it into words once, while writing in her journal, but she never quite found the right way to express the unique bond they shared. Perhaps it ran deeper than friendship, but they weren't lovers… because as much as they loved each other, they weren't in love. Melissa adored him beyond measure. And Norman cherished her with all his heart. To her, this was among the most beautiful gifts life had given her. This person with whom she could be herself completely, and be accepted wholeheartedly.

Of course, it also happened that sometimes they kissed. Okay, that happened often. But it happened with everyone he knew. He was a physical being in every sense. Demonstrative with everyone he cared about, and it was one of the things she loved most about him, that he was unafraid to show affection. There were ground rules, certainly. Boundaries. Things she absolutely drew a line at: nothing public where tabloids could run wild, no groping (or maybe _she_ did some groping, but not the other way around), and the flirty remarks were fine as long as nobody but a trusted circle of friends remained within earshot.

She grounded him, and he encouraged her sense of whimsy. Except when they would occasionally swap roles and she found herself laughing at his bemused expression as she enjoyed the thrill of a splurge of ice cream or belting out her favorite song while she prepped a meal.

They were good together. No matter where or when. So when he said he'd make sure she got back to her hotel safely, that familiar, caring warmth surfaced, and she gladly took his arm as he hailed a cab. It was his city, and she was grateful for the company as he escorted her from yet another convention party to the peaceful respite of her room.

She nestled against him during the ride, half watching the city lights fly by, half anxiously gripping him as the cabbie weaved through traffic too quickly for her comfort. He snorted softly at her, but pulled her closer, shielding her from any impending collision she could imagine. Her nerves didn't truly calm until their arrival, the key card reader shining green and softly clicking to allow them entry to the spacious room. He held the door open as she walked through, then followed her into the dimly lit quarters, wrapping his arms around her gently and speaking low against her neck.

"Am I staying?"

He didn't really need to ask, but Melissa appreciated that he didn't make any assumptions. He peppered the side of her neck with tiny kisses and she leaned back into him, running her fingers along the forearm he'd slipped around her waist.

"Yeah, you're staying."

"Good," he said when he'd finally made his way to her earlobe. "I missed you."

She couldn't help but laugh.

"We've been filming all week and just spent hours glued to each other at that party."

"Still missed you."

He tilted her chin with his free hand and kissed her lightly before she turned toward him. Her hands found his jawline as she kissed him back, prolonging the tender indulgence for a few moments before she made herself break away from him.

"Nightcap?" she asked, her hands sliding into his. She walked backward, pulling him further into the room until he tugged her to a stop, wrapping her up in a hug and kissing her temple.

"Sounds good."

Norman let her go and gestured to her jacket. She let him help her out of it and turned toward the minibar as he shrugged off his own, hanging them neatly in the closet.

"Looks like the usual suspects," she said over her shoulder. "Vodka, gin, tequila, whiskey… some mixers. Hmm, no ice, though. Gotta call room service or hit the machine down the hall."

"On it," he said, grabbing the ice bucket and heading toward the door.

"You might need this."

She slipped the key card in his back pocket, making a point to take her time sliding it in, ignoring his raised eyebrow. She smiled innocently at him and he shook his head as he walked away, deciding to forego the typical needling he'd give her in response to that move. She bit her bottom lip to fight the bubbling laughter as she watched him leave, then turned her attention back to the minibar, pondering. By the time she pulled out the gin and some tonic water, he was back, dropping cubes into the glasses. She poured the potent liquid over them, rolling her eyes when he poured a little extra gin into both tumblers after she'd finished.

"Cheers," he said, clinking her glass with his. He leaned against the nearby desk and sipped slowly. She could feel his eyes on her as she double-checked the alarm clock. Could almost hear him tilt his head as he watched her lay out her clothes for the next day on an armchair. When she walked past both him, and her mostly untouched drink sitting on top of the minibar, for the third time, he reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Nervous?"

"Tomorrow's a big day," she replied. She could feel her anxiety kick up at the mere mention of it. Panel day. Thousands of people in the audience. She could talk about Carol forever, but her love for the character never managed to quell the butterflies of facing such a huge crowd.

Norman stood up straight, abandoning his drink on the desk. He cupped her face with both hands, the chill of his fingers from holding the icy glass starkly contrasting the rising flush in her cheeks. He bent his head toward her to look her squarely in the eye.

"You've got this. You'll be fine. They love you," he said, holding her there as she shuddered through a breath that she'd intended to calm herself. He didn't move. Waited her out. She knew he was right, and finally she nodded.

"I've got this."

He gave her a small smile. "Come here." He sat her down on the edge of the bed, nudging himself next to her. His forehead met hers, fingers tracing along her shoulders and the base of her neck, applying delicate pressure. She didn't mean to sigh, but the relief she felt as he worked through the tension drew the breath out of her before she could stop it. The barest hint of his cologne as she inhaled afterward put her even more at ease and she instinctively reached for him.

"Better?" he asked. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

"Mm-hmm." The affirmative sound was all she could manage in that moment. It was always better when she felt his hands on her. When she could touch him and ground herself solidly in his presence. Better, but something fluttered low in her chest as his hands came to a rest. Something that hinted at disappointment if he were to step away now that he'd managed to calm her.

She tilted her head, eyes still closed, her lips brushing against his. His hands never left her skin as he responded, slowly migrating to the nape of neck, sending tiny shivers through her even as the warmth of his breath mixed with hers when their lips would part. Instead of easing the potential disappointment, she felt it deepen, pulling at her. Each second that ticked by drew her further into him, further into this escalating necessity to keep him close. To dwell in his touch. His heat.

The urge seemed to come out of nowhere, and it would have startled her, if she could process anything but how it felt. This unexpected need. The desperation to feel his skin against hers. She felt herself unfolding and he was the only thing that could keep her safe in that moment. And the only thing that could threaten her.

The juxtaposition played at the edges of her mind, but it didn't stop her. Or slow her down. Instead she pulled away, breathing too rapidly, staring him down. He tried. She had to give him credit for almost pulling it off, but in that first split-second she recognized it, the same need in his eyes, before he hid it away behind a mask.

He wouldn't speak, or couldn't risk it. Just stared back at her, swallowing hard before clearing his throat and looking toward the desk instead of her. She ran a finger under his chin, barely touching him to guide his eyes back to hers.

"Just this once," she said.

She could see the arguments. The counterpoints. The reasoning that ran through his head. And before he could give voice to any of them, she pressed a finger to his lips. Slowly, assuredly, she repeated herself.

"Just this…"

Her eyes flicked downward, following the path of her finger edging over his bottom lip, barely breathing the final word.

"…once."

The mask fell. He reached for her, his mouth giving in to the aching longing they shared. His hands slipped around her waist and he tugged at her, drawing her up to straddle his lap. It was decided now, and each kiss, intense and lingering, burned through her, burned her to the core. She leaned her forehead against his, tempering herself, trying to regain her bearings. It was a lost battle, but she wanted to revel in the defeat.

His hands skated across her throat, blazing a trail for his lips across her collarbone and down her chest. He didn't stop until his fingertips reached the top button of her blouse. She watched as he toyed with it, considering it as he ran his thumb along the edge. His eyes drifted back up to hers, one last question in them, one last opportunity to call this whole thing off before they were too far gone to care. She held his eyes as her fingers closed over his, stilling his nerves. His breathing evened out as she moved his hand away, only to resurge just as rapidly as she undid the button herself. She moved to the next, and the next, never looking anywhere but his eyes, until she at last reached the bottom and pulled away the silk material, exposing the flushed skin beneath it. His eyes drifted, traveling over her, taking in the sight of her. They came to rest on the black lace bra, and as she slid the blouse off her shoulders, he leaned forward, continuing the trail he had abandoned a moment ago.

His fingers grazed over the lace, teasing her lightly before he reached behind her and unhooked the bra. He didn't even steal a glance as it tumbled down and off of her, his mouth meeting hers again, his hands gliding along her back. Her nails dragged along the cotton t-shirt wore, gaining purchase, dragging it up and over his head to break off that kiss. Her head felt so light it easily tilted to the side as his chest brushed against hers and his lips gently began to map her neck. His took his time, engaging in an exploration that would have rivaled an ancient adventurer discovering a new continent, until she finally short-circuited him and pushed him away.

She rose and stood in front of him, watched his tongue flick over his lips as he took in the sight of her, and hesitated only a moment before shedding the rest of her clothing. She wanted this. Maybe even needed it. And without a word, he did the same, only stopping to fish in his pocket for his wallet. Melissa was half-tempted to tease him. Always prepared, like some dirty little version of an Eagle Scout. But she didn't feel like making light of what was happening right now. Her mood was heavy. Not in a negative way, but there was a weight to it. The solid grounding she always felt in him magnified times a thousand. It was good, and needed, and the heft of the feeling in her body was finally letting her mind run free. By the time that particular thought had filtered through it, he was sitting on the edge of the bed again, and she made her way back to him through her haze.

His kiss was gentle. His hands more so, as she settled over him. She moved slowly, carefully taking him in, pausing when it became too much. It had been a long time since she'd been with anyone, and he seemed to sense it, holding her face, his breath warming her cheek as he let her breathe through it. It only took a moment, and then the sharpness melted into a sweet bliss and she exhaled one final breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her mouth found his again, and she lost herself in the gentle pressure of his lips against hers, the easy movement of her body on top of his.

No time had passed at all, she would have sworn it, but the absence of physical interactions in her recent past accentuated every bit of delicious friction between them. It wasn't keen, or some sort of earth-shattering sensation. More like the rising swell of the ocean as the tide comes in. She was barely moving, and it rolled over her, a pleasure that waxed to its apex, and then waned, and then held there, low and pulsing.

He pulled away to look at her.

"You, uh…." he started to ask, but the words drifted away from him as she rolled her hips, feeling her skin break into a fine sweat as she did.

"Yes," she answered, "but I'm not done with you yet."

She unhurriedly raised and lowered herself on him, reveling in the full stroke, and felt her urgency begin to grow. He groaned as she pushed him backwards, further onto the bed. She leaned down, kissing him leisurely before beginning her own devilish explorations of his neck, moving on top of him again. He responded quickly and she felt him grasp her knees, edging his way up her thighs. The pleasure of his meandering touch spurred her onward, everything beginning to move faster than before. They crossed the threshold of delicate sweetness and kept on going, crashing their way into a daring give and take that stole her breath.

She rocked on top of him, running her hands over his abs, his shoulders. His breathing came faster as she teased his nipples, and she rocked in time with the rise and fall of his chest. His hands found her hips and then one hand swept forward, gliding along the crook where her hip met her thigh. His finger grazed her clit and retreated, making her whimper. She teased him further and he responded, grazing her again, retreating just as quickly, and then returning for another quick flick. Her eyes locked on his and that was all it took. He found her clit again and glided over it in long, light strokes, never leaving it, finding that perfect tempo as she moved on top of him.

It was no gentle ocean swell this time. Her entire body seized and lurched, eyes clamped shut, muscles locking and releasing in regular spasms. Her throat was dry. Her skin slick with sweat, and she couldn't stifle the sounds he had drawn from her. Her legs gave as her body finally released its tension and she collapsed onto his chest, her entire body trembling from the effort and exhilaration of her climax.

He let her catch her breath a bit as he held her close, and then she felt his mouth against her ear.

"Hold on. I'm not done with you yet."

The sudden movement almost made her yelp as he flipped her over, leaving her dizzy from the rapid motion. She was still lightheaded as he kissed her, pushing deep into her at the same time, and all relaxation she'd gained a moment ago went flying away from her again.

He propped himself up and looked down at her, thrusting slowly into her again. His eyes bored into her, and she couldn't look away, could only stare right back at him as he moved. She was vaguely aware of the soft patterns her nails drew on his back, each push and pull making them dig a little deeper. He kissed her again, harder than he had all night, or maybe ever, and she responded with equal force until he groaned again, breaking away from her, only to lock eyes with her again. He was struggling, fighting his own pleasure as he watched her, and she felt herself struggling, too. Struggling to rein herself in, to look away, to do anything but connect with him on this level. Physical was one thing… the consolation, the release. But this. It was more than that. This wasn't being close. Being that comfort for each other. This was _intimate_. And in that second of realization, she knew she was beginning to lose more than the battle. He drove into her again and started to shudder, and she shook right along with him, her eyes closing involuntarily, at last breaking from his as they both hit their peaks and he crumpled against her.

The weight of him…. It was the only thing sheltering her. Keeping her from coming apart. And knowing that scared her almost as much as letting him go would have.

So much time had passed, she would have sworn it, but he was still out of breath as he eased himself up, brushing the damp hair off her forehead, finding her lips with his again before pulling back to study her face. She could read his so easily. The arguments. The counterpoints. Just like before, but this time, he didn't give her the chance to state her own. He kissed her again as he withdrew, balancing the ache of emptiness with the warmth of his mouth. It wasn't lost on her that the emptiness of the broken connection wasn't strictly physical. She suppressed that thought as quickly as it surfaced.

"Don't move," he said, maneuvering himself away from her and ducking into the bathroom. She wasn't sure she even could move. Her mind whirled so fast she thought she might get dizzy again. It wasn't until he climbed back onto the bed beside her that thoughts slowed to a semi-normal pace.

"Are we talking about this now, or in the morning?" he asked, tugging at the blankets until they were both covered.

She turned toward him, burying herself against chest, feeling guilty at her need to be wrapped up by him when she so desperately wanted to resist bringing them closer together.

"Now," she managed to say in a normal tone of voice.

"Alright." He sighed, hesitating a moment before asking what was on his mind. "When you wake up tomorrow, how much are you going to regret this?"

The question threw her. She didn't regret it at all. She just…. she wasn't sure _what_ she was feeling. She leaned back enough to look him in the eye, knowing he could read her as well as she could read him. His concerned expression began to ease, and she shook her head slightly.

"I won't regret it."

He looked away for a second, relief emanating from him as he took another breath, then turned toward her again.

"Okay, so tell me what you're thinking, because you're thinking a lot. Whatever it is that's bothering you.... Tell me."

She should have known he would notice. It wasn't even like she had tried to hide it, but still, not many people would have had the courage to ask such a question after what they'd done. So she summoned her own faltering courage.

"It's that, when I said 'just this once'…" and her courage ran out. She wasn't sure she could even say it, but she swallowed against the dryness of her throat and tried anyway. "When I said that…."

"You meant it. You're not ready for more than that," he finished for her.

She nodded, finally understanding the clash of her feelings as they lie next to each other. She wanted to be ready. She truly did. But she wasn't. No amount of trying to force it was going to change that.

"You know I've been burned. A lot. And I know what you've been through." He paused to gather himself a bit, turning slightly onto his back to stare at the ceiling before he continued. "There was a time when I didn't think I'd ever be able to put myself out there again."

He turned back toward her, running the back of his fingers along her cheek. She leaned into it, closing her eyes and relishing the caress until he stopped just long enough for her to open them again.

"I don't think like that anymore."

Melissa felt the breath leave her lungs. The way he looked at her… the connection she had been fighting so hard earlier showing so plainly. It was all right there in his eyes.

"Just this once," he said, his head nodded a bit as he let the words sink in for himself as much as her. "It's okay if that's all it ever is. I want you to know that."

He pulled her close again, kissing her forehead and settling her against his chest. She lay there, feeling that flutter again, that hint of disappointment if he were to let go.

"When I am ready," she said, "I hope you're still here."

He squeezed her lightly in response. "I will be. I'm not letting you go."

She nestled further into him, prompting him to let out that same soft snort he had in the cab, to shelter her from any catastrophe she could imagine.

"Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow," he whispered.

She smiled to herself and relaxed into him, breathing him in and thinking about tomorrow in a whole new way. _I've got this_ , she told herself, as sleep gently claimed them both.


End file.
